


Forgetting Mr Important

by Fable



Series: Merlin [22]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Chasing, Hide and Seek, M/M, Paddle, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:05:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5976226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fable/pseuds/Fable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Merlin forgets to inform Arthur an important dignitary is visiting, Merlin's day goes from bad to the unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgetting Mr Important

It was late afternoon and the old candlemaker was lighting the rush torches, which offered a serene feel that belied what came next. Arthur was angry, no, Arthur was furious. I peered at him from behind a large wall tapestry. He was stalking the main corridor of the citadel with his expression hard, his fists curled, and bellowing, ‘MEEERRRLIINN, MEEERRRLIINN, you better hope I don’t find you!’

Thirty minutes earlier Arthur had received the news that his rather over-worked servant had neglected to inform him that a very important dignitary was… um, coming for tea. As a result, we were out hunting for the whole of Mr VIP’s visit. In my defence, it’d been a hectic time, Arthur was hosting a feast for his newly-knighted knights and at the same time he wanted to woo the Princess Faerydae—translucent skin, inky black hair, and a shapely backside—enjoyable to look at but not my fantasy.

So it was all tunic washing, sock drying, sword polishing, errand running, collecting supplies, checking, double checking, perfume making, and flower-gathering. I was knackered, and it turns out, forgetful.

Uther was furious of course. Through the thick wooden doors of the council chambers, he yelled that he was going to chop my head off and then Arthur’s honeyed tones told his father he’d deal with me.

And so, this was Arthur dealing with me—he was bellowing and I was hiding. Not that I’d be adverse to a bit of a telling-off but I feel Arthur’s punishment was more to do with horse-shit and a shovel.

Arthur turned a corner. Now was my chance. I batted away the dusty fabric, hared off in the opposite direction, and careered into a young maid carrying a stack of washing. Girl, basket, washing, arms, and legs all went flying in opposite directions.

‘Shit, sorry, yes, um, sorry.’ I bent to lift her off the flagstone floor but she shooed me away, so I scooped up a sheet but she swiped it out of my hands and scowled at me before saying, ‘What have you done now?’

Placing my splayed hands on my chest, I gave her my best puppy-dog look and said, ‘Done? Me? Nothing.’

She laughed, cupped her ear, and whispered, ‘Footsteps. Run, Merlin.’

I fled.

My hastily made plan was to find somewhere to hide until Arthur had calmed down. I considered the barrel in Gaius’ chambers but decided it was too sticky, then I thought about the broom cupboard but it was too obvious, even for Arthur. I was considering behind a door when, ‘Merlin!’ bounced off the walls and into my ears, before I could skid to a halt; he was there in front of me, like a white-shirted titan blocking the corridor. I loved that shirt it was just on the right side of see-through but at this moment, I didn’t care for its owner.

Arthur pointed at me. ‘I want your head. On a stick.’

A naughty smile broke my lips as I stared into Arthur’s blue eyes and breathed, ‘I’d like to see you try, My Lord,’ then I bowed, span on my heels, and sprinted as if my life depended on it, which it probably did.

I ran across the balcony where not that long ago I’d dragged an unconscious Uther, spiralled a stone flight of stairs, then out into the bright of the courtyard. Pausing for a second to catch my breath I then sped towards the grand alabaster staircase that led to the main part of the citadel, taking these three at a time, I cornered left and climbed another flight of stairs and into the warren of corridors, doorways, and dead ends. Arthur was not far behind, I didn’t look but his presence was on my shoulder and it made my heart heave. His footfall was heavy but quick, much quicker than mine were. When he caught up, his breathing was laboured and I could almost feel it on my neck, I shuddered and pumped my arms to gain extra speed, and then the footsteps faded away. I smiled to myself, he didn’t want to catch me, Arthur Pendragon was enjoying the chase.

Without glancing round, I sped into a little used servant’s corridor, which was thick with shadows and smelt of soot. I hoped that Arthur didn’t even know of its existence. Peering into the gloom, I searched for another hiding place and found nothing apart from a floor to ceiling curtain. With no other option and time ebbing away, I scrambled behind it and held my breath.

Boots stomped on the hard floor as their owner marched up to my hiding place and stopped. I hoped for the candlemaker, the maid, a guard, Gaius, Geoffrey of Monmouth, anybody accept Arthur.

The curtain folded as a something sharp poked me hard in the stomach. ‘Ouch, bloody ‘ell.’

‘I can see your boots, Merlin.’

Oh, fuck.

‘Get out here.’

‘Um. No,’ I answered and bit my lip.

‘Merlin.’

‘Yes?’

‘If you don’t come out, I’ll hang you.’

‘You wouldn’t?’ I intended to keep this conversation going for as long as I could come up with another plan or enchant something to thwack him.

‘Yes, I would.’ Arthur poked me again.

‘Ouch, that hurts!’

‘Not as much as hanging. Do you need me to come in and get you?’

Now that was a thought. A cosy tussle in a dark corridor, maybe involving clothes falling off. Faerydae was Arthur’s thing and Arthur was my thing.

‘Well… um, Arthur, look at it this way, I saved you from a long and boring day with Mr Important. I actually believe you should be thanking me.’

Then I didn’t know my arse from my elbow as the world collapsed.

Arthur dived on me, forcing my body to the ground in a crumpled and lung-crushing heap. Even without full armour, Arthur had some weight behind him and now that heft was squeezing the life out of me.

‘Get off,’ I managed to grunt with a mouthful of fabric and nostrils full of dust.

‘Oh no, I’m enjoying this.’ The lightness to Arthur’s voice was maddening.

With the future King of Camelot on my back, my hips were partially free; I began to swing back and forth until, with the help of a smidgeon of magic, I’d built up enough momentum to chuck him off. He grunted as he hit the floor with a sickening thud. Then silence.

I peered from under the curtain to see Arthur on his side, red-faced, and scowling at me. Crawling out like a spider from under a rock, I offered him my best smile.

Then we both heard the King.

Arthur sprang up as if his arse were alight. He always put on a brave face but he was scared of his father.

A rasping voice grated down the corridor. ‘You… find my son, and you… find his useless servant!’

Uther.

‘Quick.’ Arthur grabbed my hand and yanked me to my feet. ‘Run.’

We ran, side-by-side, through the palace. Arthur out front and with me dragging behind like a dead kite on a string. ‘Arthur,’ I puffed, ‘where are we going?’

‘We’re going to play Hide and Go Seek.’

‘Normally I’d say great, an excellent stress reliever, but I thought you wanted my head?’

‘I did. Now I don’t. Any questions?’

Stumbling over a stray basket, I regained my balance, and thought it best to say, ‘No. No. None at all.’

‘Here.’ Arthur pulled hard and I veered off at right angle through a large door-less opening. The chamber we careered into was one I’d never seen before, and I assumed I’d seen them all. Arthur lifted a wall torch from its sconce and held it aloft; the flames lit the room with an eerie dance. Covering the walls were hundreds of banners—long red ones, short gold ones, tatty ones, flags with a large dragon, and standards with Pendragon emblazoned across the centre. Under these, and with their backs to the walls, were racks of swords and tables groaning under flails, maces, and daggers. Standing menacingly in the shadowy corners were full suits of armour complete with broadswords in their gauntlets. And even in the fire light I could see countless dust motes floating and spiralling in the air.

Arthur pulled me towards a large cupboard. ‘This is where I used to hide as a child. The only person who knows about this hiding place is Morgana.’ A line etched between his brows before he looked at the floor. A beat later, he said, ‘So now nobody will know where we are.’

Placing my hands on my knees to catch my breath I glanced around the room. ‘Arthur, how come I’ve never seen this place?’

‘It’s an old arms store. The weapons in here are broken or ancient. No need for you to come here.’ He opened the cupboard's double doors wide. ‘Get in.’

‘In? It’s tiny.’

Arthur shoved me in, folding my arms and legs as he did. Then he followed, neatly tucking his limbs in after him. With one finger hooked under the latch, he shut the doors.

A disgusting smell of wet dog mugged my nostrils. I slapped my hand over my nose. ‘Urgh. What was kept in here?’

‘Dead pheasants.’

‘Really?’

‘No! How do I know, Merlin. I’m the Prince.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ I tried to move my left foot but it no longer belonged to me.

There wasn’t much room in Arthur’s childhood cupboard and it was darker than Gaius’ ink well. My left leg was under Arthur’s right thigh, one arm was around his neck, and my other arm hovered indecisively.

‘Shut up,’ Arthur hissed.

‘I haven’t said anything.’

‘You’re breathing hard.’

I giggled until Arthur poked me in the ribs. Again. ‘Ouch!’

‘They’ll hear us.’

It was an absurd situation, the Crown Prince and his servant hiding in a cupboard from the King of Camelot. A smack around the head rewarded another giggle. Even so, I was enjoying my game of Sardines with Arthur—it was all tangled limbs, hot breath, and unexpected touches, what was not to like?

Uther’s voice boomed somewhere outside of our cocoon. ‘Find my son! Now. Or I’ll have your head.’

The sound of the King entering the room was heart stopping. He was a powerful and cruel man. If he found us he would make Arthur’s life a misery and blot out my existence—well, he’d try. Clangs of metal, scraping of wood, and rustling of cloth indicated a search.

Then the familiar lilt of Gaius’ voice floated through the crack between door and frame. ‘My Lord, I do not believe they will be in here. In my opinion Arthur and Merlin would have left the citadel by now.’

The King grunted a reply as I glanced at Arthur; he was facing the door with his palm towards me indicating I make no movement.

After what seemed to be a lifetime, the noises stopped and footsteps faded away.

‘Let’s go,’ Arthur whispered, and shoved the cupboard doors with his feet. They didn’t open. He tried again. No movement. I helped him batter the door with my free foot. The cupboard rocked perilously and we were in danger of knocking it over onto its face so we never got out.

Arthur heaved a sigh as if the day, the week, the year, was just too much. ‘The catch must have fallen into place on the outside.’

Shuffling my arse into a better position, I moaned, ‘I’m hot and thirsty.’

‘Shut up! This is your fault.’

‘Mine?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Er… Forgetting Mr Important.’

‘Oh, yeh. Sorry.’

A little catch-lifting spell would sort out the problem but I wasn’t in a hurry to leave Arthur’s hot limbs. ‘We could shout for help.’

‘I can’t be found locked in a cupboard with my servant.’

‘Why not?’

‘People would talk.’

‘What about?’

‘Stuff.’

‘You mean stuff like you were having your wicked way with me away from prying eyes.’

‘Merlin!’ Arthur cried.

Placing my finger to my lips, I shushed him.

Arthur shifted so his knee was in my ribs. ‘I’ll shush you when we get out.’

‘Is that a promise?’

‘Merlin!’

Then a gentle pad pad pad indicated soft footsteps outside our wooden prison. A voice, which belonged to Gauis, drifted in followed by fingers tapping on the door. ‘Err… Merlin, are you in there?’

‘Gaius, thank God. Let us out!’ I hollered.

A click as Gauis lifted the catch and we both fell into an unceremonious and jumbled heap at his feet. He cleared his throat before saying, ‘It’s none of my business, my Lord, but what were you doing in the cupboard?’

‘Erm, Gaius… it’s not how it looks,’ Arthur stuttered untangling himself and smoothing down his tunic.

‘How does it look, Sire?’ Gauis said to Arthur then glared at me before turning to leave.

‘Now look what you’ve done.’ Arthur pointed after Gaius. ‘He thinks we were… you know?’ Then he thwacked me around the head as reward for my huge Cheshire cat grin. How I still had my senses after all the wallops I received was remarkable. Then, as I could read Arthur better than I could read myself, and the hard mouth and throbbing vein in his neck said I’m going to kill you, I fled down the corridor to join Gaius.

*

‘Arthur has saved your hide. He sweet talked his father and you are off the hook,’ Gaius said as moonlight appeared in his chamber and highlighted the edges of the dinner table. ‘You don’t deserve his generosity.’ He scrubbed a hand across his face. Sometimes I drive him to distraction. ‘Merlin, what were you doing in that cupboard?’

‘Not what you think.’ I stuffed a wedge of soupy-bread into my mouth then said through the crumbs, ‘Hiding, of course.’

‘From who?’

‘From Arthur and then from Uther.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s been an eventful day.’

Gaius stared into the middle distance for a moment and then back to me. ‘Merlin, don’t get embroiled with Arthur.’

I sighed. ‘Gaius, I’m not _embroiled_. I’m his servant, that’s all.’

The old man shook his head. ‘Be careful, boy.’ When Gaius called me boy, he meant what he said.

Reaching across the table I took his wrinkled hand in mine, smiled, and said, ‘I’m always careful.’

*

The hinges on my chamber door creaked loudly as it swung open. I sat up from my bed with a lurch and blinked rapidly.

In the doorframe and lit from behind, a silhouette, motionless with legs apart and hands holding the jam, filled the void. Even in the dark, I knew my prince. ‘Arthur?’ I whispered.

Without moving, he asked, ‘Merlin, do you believe you can desire someone more than is right and proper?’

Warmth radiated through my body even though there was a chill in my chamber. Arthur had come to me and my world was complete. I swung my legs out of bed and spied Gaius behind him. The old man was staring at me with his fingers entwined and his errant eyebrows knitted together. He was one big cross-knot and he was not going to like what I was about to do. Barelegged and with my nightshirt hutched up, I stole over to Arthur and stood in his space. The hairs on my neck quivered as I breathed into his ear, ‘I know all about desire, Arthur.’ Taking his hand, I led him into my room, closed the door, and felt Gaius’ disapproval blanket me.

‘One night,’ Arthur said and on his handsome face an internal battle marched and I knew that his father’s voice was yelling it’s displeasure while his own voice was still and knew that stood here, in his servant’s moonlit chamber, was exactly right.

Lifting his hand to my mouth and kissing his fingers, I looked into his eyes and echoed, ‘One night, Arthur.’

Arthur lifted his tunic, produced a flat piece of wood about the length of an arm, with a smooth surface, and shaped like an oar. Deep grooves chiselled into the surface formed the image of the Camelot dragon. ‘I was thinking about ways to punish you… and then this came to mind.’ He spun it in his hand and hardened his expression in mock anger. ‘Do you need punishing, Merlin?’

Ripples of excitement raced up from my toes and made me shudder. Arthur clouted me—a lot. But _this_ was different. _This_ was wanted. ‘I do. I do need punishing,’ I croaked.

‘Um, good,’ Arthur hummed and then pointed with the paddle towards the wall. ‘Against the wall.’

I duly leant, arms stretched, fingers raking into the plaster wall to the right of my bed. I glanced over my shoulder at Arthur who indicated that I should turn back again, which I did, with my heart drumming and mouth dry. Then my nightshirt lifted and piled over my hips, my skin prickled with the chill, and I unconsciously thrust my backside out. Was I that desperate for a beating?

There was no warning apart from the sound of air slicing before wood struck flesh. The thump pulsed through me deliciously causing my hips to sway and my cheeks heat and sting. Arthur purred like a great lion and muttered, ‘Lovely.’

The second strike was on sore flesh and it was harder than the first. The pain was like tiny needles scattering from the strike point and horny, in a sadistic way. I readjusted my stance, dropped my head, and bit my lip to stop the howl threatening to roar. The last thing I wanted was Gaius running in.

Arthur rasped, ‘Okay?’

‘Okay,’ I whispered.

The third wallop threatened to knock me off my feet and for that one I did a wolf-howling-at-the-moon yowl. Arthur slipped his hand over my mouth. ‘Not long, and then they’ll be the reward,’ he whispered into my ear. Reward? Oh, reward! Chasing, hiding, spanked _and_ fucked in the same day by the Prince of Camelot. It was heaven sent.

‘Ready?’

I dug my fingers into the plaster until little puffs of beige floated to the floor. I replanted my aching legs and trembled with the anticipation. It may bloody hurt but the ownership by Arthur was electrifying.

The wood struck.

The sound reverberated around my chamber and my body; the sting made my vision swim, and every inch of me ached with the need to be touched. And that’s what Arthur did. The paddle clattered as it hit the floor then Arthur’s finger traced the shape of a dragon on my tender backside and as he did so, he rumbled low with pleasure. Little did he know how apt it was that he’d embedded a dragon into a dragonlord’s skin.

Then he slid up my body and nuzzled my neck, his excitement pushed through his breeches and outlining itself onto my sore cheek. His breath was hot and as his hands explored my chest, navel, inner thighs, I prepared to explode.

‘First time?’ he asked.

I knew what he meant. ‘No,’ I replied. A drinking game with Gwaine went a little—off course. Twice. And a lesson in shooting arrows with Lancelot got a little—sticky.

He left me, and I suddenly felt exposed and alone, there was a thick snap and Gaius’ aloe vera plant had one less leaf. A rattle of belt, thump of boots, and the swish of material indicated Arthur was now naked, behind me, and leaf wielding.

He kicked my legs apart and I moved my hands down the wall so I could bend at the waist and impatiently thrust my backside towards him. Then the cold smart of the aloe gel slipped onto my sore backside and with both hands, Arthur worked the slippery substance across the rise of my rump and into the creases. I eagerly pushed into his hands, closed my eyes, and wished I were a fly on the wall to spy on the scene. I didn’t wish too hard or it may have happened in the heightened state I was in. Then, with fingers digging in like a potter forming a pot, Arthur gripped my arse cheeks, lifted me slightly, and asked, ‘Okay?’

My reply was no more than a squeak.

The hard line of his lower abdomen touched first, and then stiff fingers lifted, and he was pushing, and driving, until he’d stretched me and I was full of him. Rumours about Arthur’s abundances in the breeches department were true, and I certainly wasn’t complaining as I squirmed and spread my legs further until he fitted a little more comfortable. Then I dropped my head, and tried to remember to breathe. Arthur snarled like a caged lion, slipped his hands onto my hipbones, and dug in.

I was not only Arthur’s servant, friend, confident, I was now Arthur’s lover, and a delightful giddiness burst through me and I laughed with joy and completeness.

‘Something funny, Merlin?’ Arthur breathed as he rocked, drawing out and thrusting in with a steady pace.

‘Everything and nothing.’ I swung with him until the friction was ecstasy and barely bearable in equal amounts.

‘Your arse. Is so red. And sore,’ Arthur breathed through his grunts and sighs.

‘And you adore fucking spanked arses.’

‘Merlin. It pleases me no end. And fucking your spanked arse. Is especially. Satisfying.’ My limbs shook and my backside felt as if it were on fire as Arthur increased the rhythm.

I reached down to take myself in hand. I _had_ to. I _needed_ to. But Arthur batted my hand away. ‘No, I’ll deal with that.’ Trembling with the thought, I clenched my teeth, and willed that I managed to hang on to relish the delight.

Then he hesitated, trembled, and thrust so hard I skated across the floor and face planted the wall. The low rumble coming from Arthur reminded me of when skies darken and I was doing that, me, I was making the Prince growl with pleasure.

Then he came, in heat and pulsations, and with a face-squashing, finger-digging groan.

We stayed, panting and connected, for a length of time that was endless until Arthur slid out with a lovely sluck sound, took a stride away, spun me to face him and into his arms, paused, and then did something that surprised us both—he kissed me, all soft lipped and pressing, and with thought, care, and tenderness. I staggered back and Arthur followed me until his weight squashed me into the plaster. Then with his mouth still on mine, and his stomach sticky, he lifted my nightshirt and took me to hand; his grip on me was sword-calloused, tight, and utter bliss.

He began to move, slowly, and with skill. How many men had Arthur had? Stable boys? The knights? Had he taken on Percival’s might on a cold night, Leon’s sensitivity in the library, or Gwaine’s tomfoolery in the armoury? Arthur’s hand moved with confidence, stopping and starting at just the right moment to send me to a place where there was only him, no chamber, no wars, no magic, just him and me, locked in, one fluid, one stupefied, and in the second between reality and dream. It didn’t take long and I was amazed I’d lasted as I had. As I faltered, Arthur’s grip tightened, his body pushed me harder into the wall, I gasped for air, and he rode with me until the breathless end.

With my legs no longer able to support me, my arms aching, my head swimming, sighing with pleasure, and with a gluey nightshirt, I slumped onto the floor.

Arthur fell by my side, grinning, took my hand and counted my fingers as if he were playing, round and round the garden. ‘Consider yourself punished, Merlin.’

‘Oh, I do, My Lord. But…’ I smiled at him. ‘I may forget something important again.’

‘Then, my paddle will be waiting. I may mount it on the wall over my bed, as a reminder.’

‘I’d like that reminder.’

He laughed then shivered in the night air.

‘Stay with me, Arthur,’ I craved the warmth of his body on mine, the feel of his breath, the rise, and fall of his chest. He didn’t reply and instead jumped up, walked over to my crumpled bed, and lay, statuesque on the blankets. I paused to absorb him, naked on my bed, his tight torso, muscled legs, and strong arms, and briefly considered shouting _I’ve been fucked by the Prince_ across the rooftops for all to hear. Instead, I crawled in next to him, pulled over the bedding, knitting my legs with his, rested my hand on his chest, and whilst listening to his breathing, allowed delirium and exhaustion to take me.

*

As the first rays of weak sunlight crept through my window, I shook the slumbering Prince beside me, ‘Arthur, Arthur, you better go.’

He grunted, turned to face me, and stared as if he were looking straight into my soul. ‘Princess Faerydae is arriving today,’ he whispered.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to. There was a long silence apart from the wind clicking the clay roof tiles.

Then Arthur slipped out of my bed and pulled on his breeches and tunic. ‘You know I said one night?’

‘Yes, Sire.’

He leaned in and kissed me before saying, ‘Forget that.’ Picking up his paddle, and with warrior stealth, he crept out of my room.

*

‘Merlin, why are sitting at a funny angle?’ Gaius asked over breakfast. He knew of course.

I reddened at the sounds that the old man must have heard. ‘A bite.’

‘A bite on your backside?’

‘Yes.’ I put my face in my porridge.

‘That’s unfortunate.’

‘Yes,’ I said to the porridge.

‘What did the Prince want?’

My head said shagging, but my mouth said, ‘Boots cleaning.’

‘He wasn’t carrying any boots.’

Fuck. Gaius was enjoying this. ‘No, he wasn’t, um,’ I garbled.

Um-oh Gaius murmured before saying, ‘Why did Arthur have a small wooden oar shoved down his breeches?’

Realising the game was up, I stood so fast the table rocked, gripped my chair, gulped, then whispered, ‘To spank me.’

Gaius with a straight face and immovable eyebrows said, ‘Spank you? What had you done, Merlin?’

‘Forgot Mr Important.’

‘Oh, yes. So he spanked you _all_ night. Arthur’s arm must ache and you must have a very sore backside.’

‘Um, yes, well, not _all_ night.’ Fucking hell.

‘Oh. So what was he doing in your chamber for the rest of the night?’

I heaved a sigh. ‘You know what we were doing.’

‘Your door was rattling.’

‘Sorry. I am really sorry.’ I was. Poor Gaius, he would’ve had to listen to our moans all night.

Then he said something that made me turn on my heels and scarper. ‘Nobody’s shuffled my deck for years.’

I fled the chamber with Gaius’ chuckles ringing in my ears.

*

‘Sit down, Merlin,’ Arthur said with a smirk on his face.

I glanced at him and then at Leon, Gwaine, and Percival in turn. ‘Thank you, Sire, I’ll stand.’

Arthur pulled a chair away from the table in his chambers. ‘I insist.’

I shuffled over to the chair and perched haphazardly on the edge.

‘Something wrong, Merlin?’ Arthur’s eyes were alight with glee.

‘Um, no, I… um, no,’ I stuttered.

Then the chamber exploded with laughter, Percival thumped the table, Gwaine stamped his feet and Leon blushed.

I stood sharply. ‘You told them.’

Arthur flashed a grin.

I made a hasty exit with Gwaine calling after me, ‘Merlin, I suggest putting aloe on your sore little bottom.’ That created more guffaws.

Outside, I leant my head against the wall and closed my eyes, Arthur was the most exasperating and insufferable person I’d ever met, but I’d die for him and him for me. Standing straight, I smiled and walked, rather wonkily, down the corridor.

 


End file.
